Memories Worth Forgetting

There are not many instances when I have been legitimately embarrassed of my children.  Angry, frustrated, self conscience, yes; but embarrassed they belong to me has only happened twice. 

The first time was shortly after my second child was born.  My oldest was about 1 ½ at the time and I had made an appointment to have our dog groomed.  I packed both kids up and headed to town, which is approximately a 30 minute trip.  I dropped the dog off assuming we would have about a 30 minute wait; however, I was unpleasantly surprised to find out it would be around 3-4 hours.    This was too short to go home but too long to stay unprepared.  I attempted to stay in town and by the time we pick up the dog I had two very tired children.  One strapped to my chest in a carrier and the other walking beside me.  We entered the store to get the dog and by this time the youngest was unhappy and crying.  The youngest was whaling really, and my older child was becoming impatient.  When we were trying to leave the oldest decided she would like one of the dog toys and when I told her "no" she started having a full out tantrum; laying on the floor kicking and screaming. 

I stood in the middle of the store with a new baby crying on my chest, my toddler screaming and rolling on the floor and our 85lb dog jumping around on a leash.   I picked the oldest off the floor under my arm and carried her screaming to the car with the other one crying on my chest and the dog tugging at his leash the entire time. 

The second instance was much more recent.  I had decided that we were going to have a fun girl's day.  I thought I would take them skating and then head to the grocery store with the kid's carts.  It was to be my youngest child's first time ever skating.  I knew right from the beginning that it had the potential to be a bad experience, yet I remained optimistic and pursued on. 

We arrived at the area, laced up skates, put on helmets and winter items, and by the time we were going to step foot on the ice I was already exhausted.  I grabbed two plastic bar type things provided to assist little ones on the ice and headed out.  Instantly, the youngest was not interested in using the aide and only wanted to be held.  She started yelling and so I tried to head back to the door to exit.  This made her yell louder and when I mentioned to the older one we might have to get off the ice she began to whine as she was not ready to leave yet.  I hoisted the youngest onto my hip which was apparently against some kind of safety violation and was scolded by the 14 year old monitor.  I injured my back hunched over the youngest while trying to encourage the oldest; all the while trying to act excited and have fun.  Not long after I dragged them off the ice pretty upset.  They then whined  for a treat and I gave in defeated.  There is limited selection at the snack bar so they ended up splitting a chocolate bar.  Bad, bad, bad decision. 

I still had to head to the grocery store to pick up a few thing.  By the time we arrived I has two girls beginning to enter a downward sugar spiral.  They were beginning to become delirious;  but unfortunately our cupboards were bear and so we perserved on into the store.  I bent down to there level and threatened them within inches of life and informed them of how I expected they should behave.  I believe that they could see through my guise and knew they had me.   I mean they had already won the candy bar.  Next races insured through the store as well as a game of bumper carts, and run over mommy's feet all the while I am trying not to bust out my possessed my the devil growl and scream at them.  I did refrain and kept my cool somewhat; however, I am sure onlookers tisked me behind my back.  We made it to the till and my youngest ran over to the greeting cards starting to pull them out.  I ran over and told her "no" which provoked a screaming fit.  People began to stare at me and wonder if she was injured.  I picked her up onto my hip causing her to act out with violence and me trying to restrain her in a publicly appropriate way.  

At this moment my oldest thought it would be fun to run away from me.  Off she goes looking over her shoulder laughing all the way.  I paid for my items, ran after her and grabbed her by the arm. This action caused her to start screaming as well.  I dragged them to the car and secured them into their seats.  I closed the door and screamed at them in my evil voice.  I think I saw them both shutter and the car went silent.

We haven't been back to the store since.

Reasons for Ratings

We are fairly avid car travellers in our house.  I have mentioned in the past how we definitely have our fair share of car trips.  Because of this I am always on the lookout for inexpensive movies to add to our collection.  This is how I first discovered the $5.00 movie bin at Wal-mart.

Each time I walk by the bin I do a quick sift to see if there are any children's movie's I can grab to watch in the car.  I have been doing this for some time now.  Sometimes we have hits and other times we have very big misses.  We have been subject to watching the "Pebble and the Penguin" movie for days on end; it doesn't have the greatest animation or story line.  For some odd reason my 2nd child's favourite movie at about 18 months was "The Cat in the Hat"; not the cartoon but the one staring Mike Myers (probably not appropriate).  I think I actually bought "The Cat in the Hat" three times from the bin as it kept getting scratched.

Looking back I believe it was one of the first times that I ever perused the $5.00 bin that I learned by biggest $5.00 bin lesson.  I had grabbed out a couple of children's movies and through them in my cart.  My oldest was just under two at the time and I had purchased "The Pebble and the Penguin" as well as "Coraline" for her to enjoy; both of these were movies I had never seen but appeared to be child friendly by the cover.

We got home and my husband went into work for the night and so I decided to turn on one of our new movies.  I threw "Coraline" into the DVD player and pressed play.  I was tidying things in the other room and dealing with my second child who was an infant at the time when I heard strange noises coming from the TV.  I walked back into the living room to find a somewhat horror type film playing on our TV.  I quickly turned it off.  Later that night after putting both of my girls to bed I finished watching the move and realized that it was definitely not a movie intended for small children.

The basic story line is a little girl feels neglected by her current family.  She finds a passage into another, alternate world with a new family.  Despite warnings from others she continues to visit this other world until she learns that the "other mother" is evil wants to sew buttons on her eyes and turn her into a ghost child.  Then there is a fight between the girl and the evil other mother and the little girl wins.  After this she learns to appreciate her regular life.  This is clearly, not a kid's movie.

I had kind of forgotten about the whole ordeal and by the weekend we were off on another car trip to visit the zoo.  My husband popped in a DVD for my oldest and attached the player to the back of the head rest.  Not far into the trip and turned around to ask my daughter how the penguin movie was.  I had thought he had put in the much loved "Happy Feet" and noticed she had a strange look on her face.  I looked at her and said "What's wrong, you love the penguin movie?"  To this my husband replied "oh, no I put that new Coraline one on".   I then asked my daughter if she wanted it off and with wide eyes and a horrified face she nodded yes.

And this is when I learned to not judge a movie by its cover and always read the rating first.

Cloudy with a Chance of Screaming

Fairly recently my husband and I have been discussing taking our oldest child to see a movie for the first time.  Since she was fresh and new she has been a TV kid.  She loved the colour and movement as a baby and continues to love shows and movies.  She will actually sit through a movie at our house quietly on the couch. 

Now, our next child does not have this same appreciation.  She rarely stops moving long enough to notice if the television is turned on.  The only show she has any interest in is Bubble Guppies and she can't even sit through a 20 minutes episode of that.  So understandably when I mentioned we all go to the movies together my husband gave me a sideways glance.

The truth is we both wanted to experience going to a movie with our oldest for the first time and I thought I youngest may enjoy it as the screen is so large and didn't want her to miss out.  Even though I didn't want her to miss out on the experience I also was prepared.  I said that if it wasn't working out I would just exit the theatre, no big deal.  I mean it's a kid's movie on a week night, I am sure it won't be busy and should be a fairly kid friendly place.  We had discussed a plan that if the youngest was not cooperative that I would leave with her.

We arrived at the theatre, got our seats, and sat down to wait for the movie to begin.  Our youngest did fantastic during the previews and I began to think she might really be into this.  She seemed tired and cuddly and I dared to think for a moment she might even just go to sleep.  However, as soon as the movie began it was like her cue to become restless.  We were sitting in the very back row and she began getting in and out of seat down the aisle.  There was no one in the row and probably around 15 other people in the entire theatre so it wasn't that big of deal.

This lasted for about 5 minutes or so when she decided she wanted to move.  I picked her up and we walked down to the very front row.  In front of us was a fairly large open area and she was running in it and dancing to the movie.   After about 10 minutes of this behaviour she decided to go back up the stairs.  I took this as my cue to exit the theatre as she was being disruptive.  I placed her onto my side part way up the stairs.

My stride was then interrupted by an incredibly boisterous woman informing me to get control of my child.  She then proceeded to engage in an argument with me in the middle of the theatre.  She informed me that my child was out of control, distracting her, and that she had paid to see this movie.  My response was that it was a children's movie, she should look at the screen and that yes we all did pay to see this movie including me and my child.  I reminded myself that my child was with me and told her to try and set an example for hers, then exited the theatre.

I would have liked to remind that women of instances I am sure she had in the past in which her children did not act perfectly in public situations.  I would have liked to express that my child was acting like a child at a children's movie.  And I would have liked to publically maim her using a lot of profanity.  However, I did not do any of these things, instead I practiced self control because I did want to set an example for my child.  I take away from this a reminder that we has parents are all in this together and to be more understanding for other parents.

After the movie finished my husband exited the theatre with my other child.  I told him what happened and he seemed surprised.  He then told me that he was surprised anyone said anything because he moved to the front of the theatre part way through the movie and there was another family seated beside him with a child that yelled and carried on through the rest of the movie.

I then smiled to myself, thankful for karma.  

The Blame Game

My two are continually justifying why they have just done some sort of undesirable behaviour.  I hit her because she took my toy.  She bit me first.  I had that baby.  That blanket is mine.  I am sure that these are common phrases that all parents hear with more than one small person in their home.  I don't think this is in any way special to our circumstances.

Often I find myself acting as a referee of sorts between the two.   I determine who gets what, I make them apologize and hug, and I take away toys if a compromise cannot be reached.  Again, nothing terribly uncommon.  I am sure most parents can relate to these kinds of situations. 

I try to understand and empathize that sharing is difficult and something that may not be so natural.  We try and instil that we take ownership for our mistakes and we don't blame others.  However, inevitably whenever one of my two is questioned on their actions, blame is placed on another. "Why are your toys not put away" I ask, "because you wanted me to come for dinner" is the reply I am given.   This list is endless.

This got me thinking as to why?   We talk about mistakes and ownership for them a lot in our house, so then why is it so hard to accept responsibility for ones actions.   I continually look at my husband and say "why is it so hard for them to just say they are wrong?"  

This past weekend I got my answer.  As per the usual when dealing with me I was running late.  We were headed to the Library then to dance class last Saturday morning, like all Saturday mornings from fall to spring.  I was rushing to get my two out of the house.  They were clothed in their dance attire toting along their books to exchange at the library, dance bag placed by the door and away we went. 

The library was a fairly typical experience with me giving warnings on proper voice amplification in such places and reminders on using our walking feet.  After counting down the number of minutes we had remaining until departure time, we left the library to head to dance.  Of course, we were delayed in our departure due to watching diggers nearby, and situating little ones into seats along with proper snacks.  

We drove to town and arrived perfectly, with about 2 ½ minutes to spare.  I turned to the back seat to tell them they would need to hurry when I noticed that the dance bag which carries their tap and ballet shoes was not

in the car.  I then proceeded to give them a lecture on the importance of remembering their things, stating it was their responsibility to bring their dance bag and that they would have to dance in stockings today.

We went into class when another mom came in and stated apologetically that she felt so bad because she forgot her child's dance shoes.  I told her that we did as well, and that she shouldn't feel bad as I just told my two it was their responsibility. 

Then it hit me.  I just blamed my 2 & 4 year old for me not remembering their dance bag.  Clearly, they are a little young to take responsibility for this.  Maybe this mom needs to work on admitting when she is wrong too.

Get Out of My Bed

I have come to realize that being a mom really means never being able to finish any plate of food you have fixed for yourself.  It means every time you pull your own hair up you must also do the same to two others.  It means never leaving your house in clean clothes again.  It essentially means you must share everything with your children. 

In most instances I am good with this, although I am often annoyed at not getting to eat my own dinner, and every hair accessory and scarf I own being stolen, but I deal.  However, I do not deal (at least not well) when it comes to my bed.

My husband and I first purchased a king sized bed a few years back prior to children.  At the time our 85lb lap dog insisted on sleeping in our double bed with us, and we were cramped.   We purchased our king bed and the dog still slept on me.  Not long after the dog was kicked out to his own bed because I really don't like sharing my bed. 

Truthfully, I find our king sized bed a touch small when my husband shares it with me.  He is a shift worker and when he is on nights it feels like just the right size for me, and only me. 

Soon after our oldest daughter arrived,  between lack of sleep and desperation (she would wake up 7 to nine times a night until nearly two) I allowed her to sleep with me at times.  Scratch that, not so much allowed her to; but more, was too exhausted to move her back to her own bed once she finally fell asleep.  Although she has not spent even close to a full night in my bed in a very long time, she still awakes most nights and comes into my room whining to sleep with me at about 4:00am.

Not letting her sleep with me has nothing to do with principal, or a lesson, or any views I have on co-sleeping.  I simply cannot let her sleep with me because I wake up resenting her.  She has got to be the worst person to share a bed with.  She does not lay still, she kicks,  she sucks her thumb and all around makes me miserable.  To top off this situation, if I insist she return to her own bed, the whining and crying begins as she is too tired to cope or realize the reality of how sleepy she is. 

This morning like many mornings I had my 4:00am visitor to my bedroom.  And this morning like many mornings I lost my marbles on her.  My husband was in bed next to be.  He does a much better job at dealing with these early morning visits and is able to sleep next to her without a problem.  So when she arrived in my room whining to sleep with me I told her to go to her daddy.  She argued and I told her to either get back to her bed or lay with her daddy or bad things would happen. 

She did crawl into our bed between the two of us and I warned her not to touch me.  When she started kicking me, rubbing her feet on my legs and sucking her thumb in my ear I could feel my blood nearly boil. 

I then got up, got ready for work, got her ready for school.  I did my hair, then her hair with my hair clips.  I made us all breakfast and she ate most of mine, even though it was the same as hers.  I walked out the door trying to wipe the sticky figure mess from my shirt, and it's fine because I can share all of these things- just not my bed!

Dad Envy

I want to be a dad.  They have a way better gig.   Everyone is continually complementing my husband on his fathering skills.  Don't get me wrong I do think he is pretty good; but, for the amount of praise he receives he should be offering "how to" classes. 

In today's society, it is my belief that in most two parent homes both parents work and are required to do so in order to live.  However, this has not always been the case.  In the past when many women were working in the home they became primary caregivers for children and thus dads were perhaps slightly less involved in day to day care-taking.  Fast forward to our present, and dad's no longer have a choice; they must have greater involvement in daily tasks as both parents are working outside the home.  However, older society members (boomers) who make up a large portion of our population are not exactly 100% used to this reality yet.

This is why I think it is a prime time to be a dad.  Things that my husband does with my children are praised; however, if I were to do the same, harsh judgement would be cast upon me.  Example, if a "dad" uses his sleeve to wipe a booger soaked face he is being resourceful; but, if a "mom" does the same she is so unprepared.

Since having children this double standard has been driving me crazy.  I cannot count the number of times that someone has said to me "wow, he is really good with your kids".  In the beginning I would just smile and say yeah even though secretly inside I was really annoyed by the comment.  Now my response is "I know, right? I thought he was going to be a dead beat too, but I thought hey what they hell, let's give it a try anyway".    Or sometimes I say "Yeah well they are his".  Clearly, before we had children and I married him I did give it some thought.   I mean really people!

Another annoying matter is the shock, then amazement, then approving smiles he gets once someone learns he has his own diaper bag.  Somehow, the bag is a symbol for people, correlating to the amount of involvement he has in our children's lives.  He did not want to carry the bag I chose, nor did I want to share the bag I knew I would be carrying for the next 3-4 years.  It is just a bag!  He takes our children out of our home and does not carry a purse, requires diapers & wipes and therefore has a vessel to put these items in.  Again, it is just a bag and it isn't even that nice of one.

All this aside, I do believe there is light at the end of this tunnel.  I believe that as time goes by expectations will be raised for dads as well.  In the future they will face the same sideways glazes that moms receive when brushing dirt off of our children's snacks and then handing it back to them.

But until that happens I want the "dad" job!

Lazy Moms use Diapers

I am often asked why my second child isn't using the potty yet.  I usually respond with "oh, she just is not ready".  I can see this translates to many people as, mom is just too lazy.   But when are they ready?  As in ready to use the potty.  This is the question we have been asking for nearly a year in our house. 

Our first was very typical and was diaper free just before 2 1/2 other than at night.  Everyone told me when they are ready it will be easy.  So we waited and when she was ready things went fairly smoothly.  Within the week of finishing with diapers we headed on a 10 hour car trip.  This is how we were introduced to assisting toddlers to pee in the wilderness.  It was a quick lesson after the first stop included her peeing all over my Uggs!

This one account led me to believe all the hype and offer the same advice of "When they are ready you will know and it will go fairly easy".  But what happens when you don't really want to wait that long?  When you are sick of changing toddler diapers and blow outs, when your child can tell you to change them and that they have pooped, when they can offer assistance in completing this dirty task; it is time to take action.

Clearly, their are many other parents like me.  A billion dollar industry exists marketing tools to make this task easier and more exciting.  I was offered a few different methods to try including placing them on the potty every 15 to 20 minutes, offering prizes or treats, & sticker charts.  

In the spring and summer, I had already tried just putting underpants on her out side and telling her to let me know when she needed to use the potty. A few accidents later I chalked it up to her not being ready and put a diaper back on her.  

I chose my next steps wisely.  This year she is signed up for dance class for the first time.  Although she is still a little young I was able to convince the instructor to let her into the class after she witnessed her meltdowns the previous year when she was forced to sit on the sidelines and watch her sister.  So I set the stage and informed her that the dance teacher said she couldn't wear a diaper under her dance clothes.  I told her that if she wanted to go to dance class she would have to use the potty and she agreed.

The stage was set, it was Friday night and potty training was to start the next morning.  I had decided on a multi-faceted approach.  I planned on having potty breaks every 15 to 20 minutes, and had gotten her her own potty.  Also I told her that every time she went on the potty we would blow up a ballon, and if she used the potty enough times we would have a party by the end of the day.  She agreed to these terms and seemed excited; I had hope that diaper free was in my sights.

This hope died when her first accident occurred shortly after a potty break while she was pretending to be a dog on the only area rug in our entire house.  I told her the rules of our agreement again, put new underpants on her and she seemed excited once more.  The hope dwindled further during her second accident on the same carpet while rolling around in blankets and pillows.  The hope was completely killed with the third accident on the same carpet within minutes of a potty break sitting in a puddle six inches from her potty.

Currently a week later she is back in diapers (one size up to try and prevent blow outs), and my carpet stinks even after being scrubbed multiple times with different cleaners.  I guess we will wait a little longer.  The next time I am asked "Is she still in diapers?", I am just going to respond "Yes, I am really lazy"!